Gallows
by Shiuta-san
Summary: After all, they're only human. A short one-shot about Hidan and Kakuzu's encounter with Team 10. Strong language.


_Gallows_

_-:-_

Things were simple. It was what people were told. Life, death; Living and dying. They were simple enough when written down, or spoken with words, but when one actually bothered to go through the motions, Kakuzu was sure they would find that such things were not so simple, after all.

Just a moment ago- Seconds, even- the man that he had learned to call an 'enemy' had been alive and kicking. Kicking a little too much for Kakuzu's liking, even. Now, he lay on the brink of death, spread-eagle on his back in the sand. Kakuzu did not pity this man- Of that much, he was certain. Kakuzu being a hardened Shinobi himself was already well aware of the risks of being a ninja, being a wanted criminal just added to that already horrendously long list of risks involved.

And Kakuzu did like fighting. Of course he did. He bore no regrets of having killed and injured the many men that he had in his line of work. They died, he got paid, enough said. But as he stood there, watching as the man that the Leaf-nin called 'Asuma' coughed and spluttered on the ground, he couldn't help but to feel some sort of... Faint curiosity. Just the smallest, nagging feeling in the very back of his skull; A small feeling that had already seeped through his whole body, making him feel antsy, and maybe even just a little bit nervous.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

The concept of harboring these feelings made no sense to him. They never had, and he was sure that they never, ever would. Long ago he had cut ties with people like the ones standing in front of him, surrounding their teacher as he lay dying. If, by some miracle, Hidan were to die, Kakuzu very much doubted that he would be caught dead doubled over blubbering in the sand over his lifeless body. After all, if Hidan ever _were_ to die, Kakuzu was fairly certain that he would have been the cause of it. That is, if Hidan hadn't already gotten himself chopped to bits by some powerful enemy before he got to him. Hidan's mouth always got him into trouble. And Kakuzu was certain that it would kill him one of these days.

Fantasies about Hidan's demise aside, Kakuzu soon found himself completely wrapped up in the scene that lay before him. Crying Shinobi- A conundrum if he had ever seen one. Kakuzu knew better than anyone that showing one's emotions in the field was a one-way ticket to the grave. That much had been proven to him in his many, many years as a Shinobi. Tears were not tolerated. Anger was to be kept in check. Embarrassment was for the weak. And so were tears.

And yet, these people in front of him did not seem weak. Not to him. Hidan may say otherwise, but the Jashinist had never been known for his insight. His mouth, yes, his bloodlust, maybe, but never for his insight. And these people did not seem weak, despite the immortal priest's words.

So... Why shed tears, if they were for the weak?

Kakuzu did not have the answers. He could not remember the last time he had ever cried. He vaguely wondered if he ever had. Perhaps not, and if he hadn't, he had no regrets. Because tears were for weak people, and he was not a weak person.

For a single moment, the dark skinned Akatsuki member cast his eyes to his right, coming to rest on the pale skin of his partner. His skin had reverted to its actual color, no longer the deep ebony black that his body donned whenever he chose to perform one of his ridiculous rituals. Kakuzu wondered if Hidan had ever cried. Hidan was not a weak person. He was hot head, bloodthirsty, idiotic and childish, but he was certainly not a weak person.

But Kakuzu figured that Hidan had probably cried once or twice throughout the course of his life.

_xxx_

People sucked, and their lives sucked, and then he killed them.

That was what Hidan did. The Jashinist had never been one for the arts and crafts, even as a child, nor had he ever possessed a talent of any kind aside from the gift of murdering others. It was what he was good at, and it was all that he had ever been good at.

So as he stared before him, watching as the huddle of Leaf-nin sobbed over their fallen mentor, he couldn't help but to feel just a little bit proud of his handiwork. Every single one of them had been reduced to tears, all by something of his creation. From life, he had created death, an art form all of its own. He had never been good at the arts, so he had created his own: The Art of Killing.

It worked for him.

He got death- Death, Hidan could _understand._ A person's heart was beating one minute, and the next it wasn't. All because he could drive a pike through his own chest without keeling over backwards for good. All because he could bleed himself dry, only to be resurrected again seconds later. All because he believed in a God that could grant him the gift of immortality, so long as he took away the lives of others.

And Hidan couldn't give a flying fuck what those people's lives were like. He didn't care if they'd had families or if they had been orphaned at birth. If they had children or not, whether they were married or single or fucking everything they could get at without a care in the world. None of those things were any of his concern. If they had a beating heart and if they just so happened to get in his way at just the right time, then they were done for. Toast. Gone. Dead.

Poof.

That's all there was to it.

There came no feelings of remorse or self-loathing. No haunting dreams or apparitions of those who he had murdered. No nagging feelings, no doubts or second guessing. Killing came to him as naturally as breathing, and did people ever second guess themselves for breathing?

No.

But there was one thing about killing others that always got him thinking. _What was death like?_ He had never known. Everyone assumed that he had, just because he had stabbed himself through the chest with a pike more than fifty times, and because just a few minutes ago his head had been completely severed from the rest of his body. But Hidan had no answers. He had never seen the soft, warm and inviting light. He had never heard the voices of the dead, and he hadn't even seen the flames of hell, as so many people had repeatedly told him he would.

Hidan wondered if he would ever come to face death.

He knew that Kakuzu would, one day. One day, all of his Hearts would be destroyed by someone much stronger than him, and he would be killed just as dead as any number of the people that Hidan had murdered in his life. All it would take was that one person who would always be one step ahead of him, and then Kakuzu would be dead. Hidan figured he'd probably still be around to see it, Kakuzu wasn't all that. He could be beaten, of that much he was sure.

But what about _him_. Would he ever die? See the light, cross over, go beyond, or _whatever?_ He was immortal. Unkillable. Stab him with a knife, he would still stay standing, dismember his body, he would still be conscious. Hell, you could even blow him up and he would still know his right from his left. Sometimes, he just wanted to give it all up... Just to find out.

But then he would be dead, and that would _fucking suck._

Perhaps his time would come, many centuries from now when all the people in his life had gone away. Perhaps one day Jashin would revoke his gift, and force him to walk the Earth as a mortal until someone finally put him in his place. Maybe those things would happen, one of these days, when people finally decided to condemn him for his crimes and make him walk to the gallows.

But now, on this day, at that moment, he was just watching. Merely an observer of that strange thing that all humans knew to call 'death'. Death that he had caused, no, death that he had _made_, like a god. He had made this death in his image, and he smiled.

It was fucking _great._

And maybe one day this thing that he had made would come for him. Maybe one day he'd be lying face down in the sand, bloodied and beaten, his last breaths too painful to allow him to speak. There would be no pleasure from that pain, not like the feeling he got from his rituals. That wouldn't be there to comfort him, when his time did finally come. So maybe one day, he would walk in that _Asuma's_ shoes. Maybe one day he'd see that bright light, and feel that horrible pain. But, until then, he was on the other side, simple creating what all people called Death, and reveling in its majesty.

"Let's go, Hidan,"

It was Kakuzu who had finally broken the tension surrounding the Shinobi. His words caused the kid with the spiky brown hair to look up from his teacher, and he focussed his watery eyes on Hidan. Briefly, the Jashinist wondered if there would be anyone who would feel like that when he finally snuffed it. He seriously doubted it.

"I should curse that fucking Leader next time, dammit!" he swore, clicking his tongue with annoyance as he gripped his scythe tighter. The kid with the pineapple hair yelled something, but Hidan just couldn't understand it. The kid's speech was inaudible from his grief, and Hidan could only pity the poor bastard. What an idiot, to waste tears over something so stupid. The man was dead, he couldn't see if people were sad or not. Why the hell did it matter. "I'll be back... That guy's gonna die soon anyways- Au revoir, Shitheads!"

With two clouds of smoke, the Zombie Duo vanished. The two were gone, but all the pain and carnage that they had caused still remained. Perhaps they both felt that they harbored no regrets, or feelings of sadness for whatever wrongdoings they had committed. But deep down, they both understood, even if neither spoke of it.

They were only human.

No matter how many times they died and got back up again.

* * *

><p><strong>I wrote this short one-shot due to a request on my other story, Total Life Forever, which is a Fem!KakuzuxHidan pairing chapter story. A reviewer had expressed a desire to find a short story portraying Kakuzu and Hidan's feelings shortly after killing Asuma of Team Ten, and I quite liked the idea, so I decided to go ahead and write this. It's short, I know, but I'm pretty pleased with the way it turned out.<strong>

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